


Cure In A Cup

by Higuchimon



Category: Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: 2014 Advent Calendar Challenge (Digimon), Diversity Writing Challenge, Gen, Snakes & Ladders in Writing Land Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2774258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higuchimon/pseuds/Higuchimon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[one-shot, Takeru & Daisuke; Advent Challenge Day #11, Diversity Writing Challenge; Snakes & Ladders in Writing Land Challenge] Takeru's got a bad cold and doesn't want to do anything.  Daisuke thinks he should do something and brought something for him to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cure In A Cup

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Digimon Adventure 02  
 **Title:** Cure In A Cup  
 **Characters:** Takeru  & Daisuke  
 **Word Count:** 2,126|| **Status:** One-shot  
 **Genre:** Friendship|| **Rated:** G  
 **Challenge:** Written for the 2014 Advent Calendar Challenge, day #11; Written for the Diversity Writing Challenge, section E, #26, write a K rated fic; written for the Snakes  & Ladders in Writing Land Challenge.  
 **Summary:** [one-shot, Takeru  & Daisuke; Advent Challenge Day #11, Diversity Writing Challenge; Snakes & Ladders in Writing Land Challenge] Takeru's got a bad cold and doesn't want to do anything. Daisuke thinks he should do something and brought something for him to do.

* * *

Takeru wanted to die. He couldn't imagine how anyone would want to live when they were in his situation. His head hurt. He could hardly breathe. Coughs racked his body on a regular basis. He couldn't even sleep properly. 

“I _hate_ being sick,” he muttered, pulling the blankets over his head and wishing he could make the rest of the world go away that easily. 

The rest of the world really wasn't being that much of a problem. His mother had made certain he had breakfast – though he hadn't really wanted it that much – and that he wasn't going to die while she headed out to do some research for one of her articles. She wouldn't be back until late, and she'd promised to bring something to eat when she did. 

Takeru didn't really care. He didn't have that much of an appetite right now. He just wanted to sleep and wake up in a world where he could breathe decently and wasn't sneezing and coughing every few minutes. 

He'd sent Patamon to the Digital World, not wanting to inflict his current condition on his partner. Digimon could, and did, catch colds from humans, and while there weren't any enemies active now, he wasn't going to be responsible for Patamon not being in fighting shape. 

Not that he was in fighting shape at the moment. But he also didn't want to subject Patamon to how annoying he could be when he was sick. 

He closed his eyes and tried his best to get some sleep. That seemed far more elusive that he wanted it to be, as coughs shook him every time he started to relax into slumber, and when they didn't, sneezes showed up. 

_Why isn't that cold medicine doing anything?_ One would think from how bad it tasted that it would've done something. But all it did was coat his throat and mouth and taste horrible. 

Just when he didn't want it, banging came on the door. He groaned, refusing to move. Whoever it was probably wanted his mother anyway, and even if they didn't, he didn't want to see anyone. He just wanted to die. Or sleep. He was equally good for both. 

The banging didn't stop. Takeru buried his head more deeply underneath the pillows and waited for them to figure out that no one was going to answer the door and go away. They could leave a note if it was all that important. 

A familiar beep sounded and he groaned even more. This time he reached out from under the blankets and fumbled around until he found his D-Terminal. This was just not his day. Someone pounding on the door, a horrible cold, and now someone trying to send him a message? 

_If someone is trying to take over the Digital World, I'm going to sneeze on them until they get sick. See how they like it._

He flipped open the D-Terminal and read the message, half expecting it to be an invitation to a party or a picnic or anything else utterly useless to him at the moment. 

_Hey, Takeru! I'm standing right outside your door! I heard you weren't feeling too great, so I made something for you!_

And it was signed, Daisuke. 

Takeru let his head slip back down onto the pillows and sighed. On a mental list of those he didn't want to see right now, Daisuke probably ranked right under the Dark Masters, Etemon, Vamdemon, and Devimon. Not that he _disliked_ Daisuke at all. But one simple fact made his presence unwelcome at the moment. 

Takeru was sick. And Daisuke was _energetic_. 

But Daisuke also wasn't going to go away. Takeru knew if he didn't get up and let him in, his mom would come home to find Daisuke sitting – or more likely pacing up and down, probably talking to Ken via cell phone or D-Terminal – right where he was now, waiting to be let in so he could give Takeru whatever it was that he had. 

_He's probably going to get sick too._ A tiny part of Takeru didn't want to see that. He'd never seen Daisuke sick before. The closest he'd ever come had been two years earlier when he'd sprained his ankle doing some sort of complicated stunt in the Digital World. Even then, Daisuke had been back on his feet in nearly a record amount of time. The thought of Daisuke being as laid up as he was didn't even seem possible. 

Well, if that were the case, then maybe it really wouldn't be so bad. And no one said that Daisuke had to stay all that long anyway. He could hand over whatever it was he'd brought, maybe chat a little, and then go on home, leaving Takeru to his misery. That was probably what he had in mind anyway. 

With a deep sigh, Takeru wriggled his way out from under his blankets, grabbed his robe, and shuffled his feet into his slippers. He stopped to cough a couple of times and grabbed some tissues as he worked his way out of his room. The apartment was almost deadly quiet; he didn't think he'd been this utterly alone in years. Patamon was almost always there, after all. 

That was the worst part of being sick. He didn't have his partner there to keep him company. Still, he didn't regret it. Much. 

He could hear Daisuke singing softly to himself as he got closer to the door. While Daisuke's voice wasn't anywhere near on the level of Yamato's, Takeru decided that he also wasn't going to break glass at any point in the near future. It seemed to kill time for him, anyway. 

“Takeru!” Daisuke greeted him with far too much energy and Takeru just barely managed a smile. “Man, you look awful.” 

“I know.” He'd caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and kept right on shuffling by. “You don't want to catch this, so be careful.” 

Daisuke waved one hand carelessly. “My immune system can deal with anything. Don't worry about it.” He raised his other hand to reveal some kind of plastic covered bowl. “Like I said, I brought you something!” 

Takeru eyed it with caution. “What is that?” It smelled good, whatever it was. His stomach perked up just a little. Maybe having something to eat wasn't such a bad idea? 

“It's something I made.” Daisuke's perky smile almost made Takeru just want to take the bowl and go eat it without listening to anything else Daisuke had to say. He wasn't in the mood for snarky answers, just honest ones. “It's chicken ramen. My special recipe.” 

In all truth, the day they'd defeated BelialVamdemon and Daisuke had declared his intentions to open a noodle shop when he grew up, Takeru hadn't believed him. At least he hadn't believed that Daisuke would do it. He'd believed Daisuke _wanted_ to do it, just like he'd wanted to be a professional basketball player at that age. 

But Daisuke hadn't changed his mind. Instead, he focused all of his energies on doing just that, making ramen on a regular basis, and frequently sharing it with everyone else. Takeru hadn't heard of this particular flavor, though, at least not with Daisuke making it. 

“I made enough for you to have some now and then another bowl this evening if you want it,” Daisuke said, and Takeru couldn't hold out any longer. He stepped back and gestured the brunet to come on in. 

He didn't see V-mon anywhere and glanced over at his friend. “Where's V-mon?” 

“In the Digital World. He was visiting some friends there and ran into Patamon. Patamon told him you were sick, and he got in touch with me.” Daisuke headed right for the kitchen, clattering around as if he belonged there. “So I made this.” 

Well, that explained how Daisuke had known he was sick, since he hadn't actually advertised it to anyone. Yamato knew, of course, because he told his brother everything, but he didn't think Yamato would've told Daisuke. 

The ramen was clearly freshly made, little swirls of steam rising up from it, and it smelled even more delicious with the top off the bowl. Takeru breathed in the scent and could almost feel the warm goodness fighting off the cold. His mother had suggested that he eat something but until now, he hadn't really wanted to. 

He coughed a little, and headed for the refrigerator to get something to drink. “Thanks,” he said as he did so, getting out something for Daisuke as well. “It smells really great.” 

“Of course it does.” Daisuke raised his head and grinned in that way that he had. “I've been practicing this one for a while.” He made something of a face then. “My last couple of attempts didn't go over that well.” 

Was that why Daisuke had looked so green a few days earlier? Takeru hadn't thought to ask at the time, but if he'd been working on a failed recipe...well, at least this did smell better. And he hoped it would taste better. 

Daisuke turned to him, a small steaming bowl in his hands, and presented it to Takeru. “Here you go! Good for what ails you! At least that's what my grandma always says when she's giving me something and I'm sick!” 

Takeru accepted it, going to stand by the small kitchen counter. His stomach perked up all over again with the scent this much closer to him. He picked up the bowl and started eating, sucking down the noodles greedily. He didn't pay much attention to how Daisuke watched him, being far more interested in getting the food in him. The more he ate, the more he wanted to eat, and while it didn't affect a miraculous cure of any kind, Takeru thought for certain that he'd want more of this ramen the next time he got sick. 

“So, do you like it?” Daisuke wanted to know. Takeru wasn't surprised to see him all but vibrating with the desire for the answer to his question. 

He wondered for a moment if Daisuke were using him as a test subject for it, then decided he didn't care. He'd gotten some delicious ramen, so if it _was_ a test, then both he and Daisuke had passed with flying colors. 

“I think I might not wait until this evening to eat some more,” he said. He glanced at the bowl, wondering if he really did want another one. He hadn't finished his nap before Daisuke came over, and with the warm food securely in his stomach, the song of sleep could well be more powerful than he'd thought it would be. 

Daisuke didn't seem to realize that sleep was a thing worth considering as he pumped one fist in the air. “All right! I knew I got it right this time! And Jun said I couldn't do it!” 

Takeru's lips curved upward for a brief moment. “You can tell her from me that you very definitely got it right. Thanks, Daisuke.” 

“No problem.” Daisuke waved it off and slipped the top back onto the larger bowl. “I'm just gonna put this in your fridge, okay? You kinda look like you need a little rest.” 

Well, maybe he wasn't as blinded by his own food success as Takeru had thought he was. 

“See you around!” Daisuke headed right for the door, waving as he did. “And get better soon!” 

“I don't know about that.” Takeru couldn't help but grin teasingly at the brunet as he followed him to the door. “If I can get you to cook that ramen for me, I might want to stay sick just a little bit longer.” 

Daisuke paused for a moment, looking much as if someone had just smacked him between the eyes. “Was it really that good?” 

“Your noodle cart's going to be a big success if you keep cooking like that,” Takeru assured him. “And I'm going to be a regular customer. You can count on that.” 

He'd never really seen someone's eyes light up the way he'd read about it. But now he knew exactly what it looked like. He'd very seldom seen Daisuke look happier than he did right now. 

“You mean that?” 

“I don't go around saying things I don't mean,” Takeru said. “Thanks. A lot.” 

Takeru didn't look down to see if Daisuke floated out of the apartment on the wings of praise, but if he had, Takeru wouldn't have been remotely surprised. Instead, he closed and locked the door, then headed back to bed. He wanted to get some sleep, not just to feel better, but because when he woke up, it would be evening, and he could have some more of that ramen. 

**The End**


End file.
